


Death, Despair & Heart's Desires

by DominusTrinus



Category: Charmed
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst and Humor, Childhood, Dark Past, Demonic Possession, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Good and Evil, Grief/Mourning, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Romance, Sisters, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominusTrinus/pseuds/DominusTrinus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping a ten year old Phoebe Halliwell company should've been an easy task for Cole Turner. Four things made it more complicated than it should be: 1) The Source of all Evil trying to takeover him 2) Future Phoebe's hatred of him 3) Little Phoebe's growing curiosity about Prue and 4) Paige. Set during 'Three Faces of Phoebe' episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Charmed, you would be seeing this as an episode on TV. And if I owned Julian McMahon, writing a fanfic would be the last thing my hands would be doing ;-) So…yeah don't own anything, not even some dialogues from various episodes. Just own the crazy plot.

**A/N:** I know I should be updating my other two fics, but I somehow ended up watching  _Three Faces of Phoebe_  and naturally wanted to write something about it. But after reading about a million stories of either Phoebe going home and telling her sisters and Grams about the future and another million stories about Cole's dilemma with the Source's powers, I naturally had to take a completely different and insane approach :-D

**Timeline** : Starts between  _Three Faces of Phoebe_  episode and ends…err..well let's just say future consequences and leave it at that, shall we? :-)

**Special thanks:**  To  _gzv_  for answering every crazy question I came up with in order to write this. And to  _ElauraGrave_  for the inspiration to help me figure out how to move the story forward :-) And  _namjai_ and  _Daicy_ for the long Charmed chats which also helped a lot. Thanks guys :-)

Anyways, hope everyone enjoys and reviews? ;-)

* * *

" _ **I don't need to see the future to know about good witches. They're overly cautious by nature. Her future self will be too afraid to say anything that might make things worse for her and her sisters. She'll preserve the future."**_

" _ **How do you know?**_

" _ **I've been a Seer longer than you've been the Source. You'll learn to trust my instincts."**_

" _ **I'm not the Source."**_

" _ **But you will be very soon. It's your destiny."**_

" _ **My destiny is to be with Phoebe**_ _ **.**_ _ **Nothing will change that and neither will**_ _ **this**_ _ **thing inside of me**_ _ **!"**_

" _ **Your love won't be enough to save you in the end. You'll see.**_ _ **.."**_

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Cole Turner froze in his mental struggles against the Source of all Evil. "What?" Even the Source halted his assaults for control.

The ten year old version of his fiancée gazed forlornly at the photograph above the fireplace; a picture of a younger version of Prue Halliwell.

"Phoebe?" Cole prodded cautiously when he received no answer. "Who exactly are you talking about?"

It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"Aunt Gail."

Confusion tackled the sigh of relief from ever escaping. "Aunt...Gail?" He couldn't ever remember Phoebe mentioning an aunt, let alone one which had a name.

"Grams' best friend." Phoebe looked down, idly thumbing through the photo album her older self had given her earlier. "She comes every other Saturday for Bridge Club."

"Bridge club?" Somehow he doubted the grandmother of the Charmed Ones invited her friend Gail over for a game of cards. "Really?" A coven to practice magic however wasn't so farfetched.

Penny Halliwell was not only raising her three granddaughters, but three witches prophesized to be the most powerful witches of all time. She would've needed all the magical help she could get.

"Yes…and s-she used to bake us cookies too." Phoebe's voice slightly wavered. "A-And she never said no to anything."

It was obvious the kid was realizing seeing the future could be both wonderful and terrible at the same time.

The sigh finally left Cole's lips, but it wasn't of relief. For the hundredth time that evening, Cole wearily glanced at the stairs.

Phoebe—the present Phoebe—and her sisters were busy in the attic, trying to identify the demon that had attacked earlier. A demon who, without a doubt, would attack again.

" _Kurzon will be attacking them very soon. This time more prepared. You better hurry back... if you want them to survive."_

The Seer made sure of it.

She wanted Kurzon destroyed at all costs and didn't mind if the Charmed Ones paid it with their lives.

Cole found his eyes wandering over to the dining room, mechanically scanning the scene of the attack.

" _You better hurry back... if you want them to survive. If you want Phoebe to survive..."_

Cole clenched his fists, suppressing the impulse to flame down to the Underworld and grasp the Seer's throat again.

The last sentence was never spoken, but its implication was loud and clear.

Kurzon had shimmered from behind. He had attacked with an energyball.

Paige had sent the energy ball right back at him, but missed, shattering a vase in the process.

Kurzon had tried again, before Piper had unleashed her own lethal power and discovered he reconstituted. Like the Source.

And that's when Phoebe cast a spell summoning her past self.

And future self.

From the shattered vase to the broken light fixtures —the non-living victims of the demon attack—the implications were loud and clear.

Paige can deflect an attack. Paige can orb away from an attack.

Piper can unleash an attack. Piper can freeze an attack.

Phoebe...Phoebe was the problem.

" _Your power was always the weakest, hardly worth taking. Your life however is."_

The Source knew it.

The Triad knew it.

The Seer knew it. And thanks to her, Kurzon probably figured it out too.

The key to the throne.

" _Demons hoping to replace the Source will gather factions of followers, and what better way to gain support for your faction, than to kill the infamous Charmed Ones."_

The infamous Charmed Ones' power lay in the Power of Three. And the best way to destroy the Power of Three and the Charmed Ones?

" _Which sister shall we start with?"_

" _The most vulnerable."_

Cole slowly unclenched his fists and closed his eyes, his own words with the demon of rage echoing in his ears.

It wasn't personal, just good strategy. Take out the most vulnerable.

Simple.

Unfortunately, a world without the Source wasn't so simple.

Without a strong leader, anarchy and chaos ruled. Because of the Source's vanquish, there was a power vacuum in the Underworld.

A void.

There was a void in the Underworld and it craved for completion.

" _Too bad Belthazor's gone. He would have made a great new Source."_

Cole rubbed his face and again found his eyes straying over to the stairs.

The possibility of the Charmed Ones embracing evil and declaring themselves Queens of the Underworld was as insane as him and Piper falling madly and hopelessly in love. No one would bow down to witches and a half-whitelighter.

They would have to settle for vanquishing one of the Source's powerful enemies.

It would send a strong message. The cost of a war against the Charmed Ones for ascension to the throne would far outweigh the benefit.

The sisters couldn't afford any sort of distractions while they searched for Kurzon. Which ultimately meant...

"She was...she was really nice. And now she's dead. Isn't she?"

...Cole got stuck dealing with the terrible part of Little Phoebe's future experience.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his leather jacket and cautiously approached Little Phoebe. "Just because she isn't here right now it doesn't mean..." he trailed off, trying to find appropriate words to tackle the sensitive situation. "People grow old and they—"

"Die," Phoebe finished miserably, seemingly stuck on the same page of her album. "They die."

Curiously, just like Phoebe's sweet, loving, Aunt Gail, who Cole had never heard about until now.

His gaze glided over to the haphazardly slung brown coat over a carelessly tossed blue bag on the marble tabletop. A stack of notes in Paige's haphazard writing peeked out from the confines of the bag.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Maybe he had heard of an Aunt Gail.

As a former Triad agent, he had access to two years worth of information, collected by the blood of demons. The information mentioned someone close to the Charmed Ones betraying them. And the involvement of the demon of vanity, Cryto.

Could that be her?

"Old people always die." Phoebe's broken murmur interrupted his mind from answering that question.

He finally managed to catch a glimpse of the photograph Phoebe was staring at: Aunt Gail. Or rather Aunt Gail's best friend, Penny Halliwell, with a young, happy Phoebe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled inwardly.

_Gram's best frien_ _d_ _….old people die any way…._

He didn't know why he couldn't see it. All the clues were obvious.

Whether the alleged Aunt Gail had been real or involved in selling Phoebe and her sisters' souls for beauty to Cryto, Cole knew it was too late to hide the truth from her. Or weave a lie to cover it.

All he could do was lessen the inevitable blow.

"We all die someday, Phoebe. It's…it's just the way it is."

Phoebe's lips quivered. Her chocolate brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Grams is also gone..."

It wasn't a question, but Cole answered it anyway. "I'm sorry."

The distraught expression on her small face, however, made him regret he did.

"C-Cause...she was...really old." The hitch in her small voice didn't go unnoticed. Neither the sniffles in her breathing. Nor the trickling tears she was rubbing at furiously. "A-And old people they...they are supposed to die anyway," she consoled herself.

"Right." Cole loathed himself for agreeing, but there was no point in hiding something she had figured out long before.

"Did she...did she get sick?"

He should've expected it. Details.

Phoebe had always been too curious.

"No," he replied curtly. "She passed away peacefully in her sleep." He distorted the truth, to make it appropriate for a child. "Surrounded by her granddaughters."

"So...one day...she...s-she never woke up?" Phoebe looked stricken by the possibility. "No matter how hard you tried? She was…just…just…."

He grimaced.

Perhaps the uncensored version of truth might've been better.

"The...uh...the important thing to remember is that she's in a better place now." He was forced to resort to tactics used by the mourners at Prue's funeral. Judging by the expressions on Piper and Phoebe's faces that day, it was probably one of the worst things to say to a person in grief.

"Because...she's with Mommy?"

But maybe not to a grieving child.

"Yes, that's right." Cole grabbed the opportunity for discussing the...brighter aspects of death. "With your mother, your grandfather, with your great-grand parents..." He let the sentence trail off, not wanting to elaborate her surrogate mother and only parent figure wasn't the only person she would lose in the future. Neither explain the strange fact that her great-grandmother was now her sister, Piper. "She's with a lot of people. With family. Do you really think she or anyone of them would want you to be sad?"

While the tears still trickled, the symptoms of grief visibly lessened. Phoebe contemplated his words, before she shrugged. "I don't know. I never met them. Grandpa died when Mommy was little. I don't know anyone else." She sniffled loudly and raised a hand to scrub her runny nose. "Cause they're all dead."

"But your Grams married again." Not to mention another three times out of six times she had been engaged. "You must have..." Cole took a hesitant step, unsure whether someone who believed in Cinderella and happily ever after believed in divorce and re-marriage. "More family out there."

"Grams says no one else matters besides Grandpa." Phoebe gazed solemnly at Grams photograph. "He'll always be her true love."

"I see." He sensed a  _but_ , something Phoebe wasn't saying...something which may very well help Cole. But first things first. "Let me get you a tissue."

Phoebe stopped wiping her tear-stained hands and runny nose on the sofa. "Okay..."

As fate, destiny and karma would have it, a tissue box wasn't conveniently lying around in plain sight.

His searching gaze again fell on the half-whitelighter's belongings, which stood out for even a blind man to notice.

He glowered, instantly knowing fate and destiny weren't responsible for things not being where they belonged. Piper had lectured Paige a million times, but apparently, words had no affect on the half-whitelighter's clutter habit.

Grudgingly, Cole embarked on a quest for a tissue box.

He ignored his reflection on the various antique mirrors, the paintings, the framed photographs, shattered glass and any other reflective surface he encountered.

_"We're one now…I'm reborn….within you."_

He didn't want to catch a glimpse of his lips, twisted into a diabolical smile. He didn't want to see the triumph in his eyes; soulless and black as coal, burning with a fire which could vanquish demons, witches...mortals. Even the ruthless, bloodthirsty, vilest of evil creatures visibly trembled under the fiery gaze. It reminded them of power... how far that power transcended...how they had no choice.

_"You...won't have a choice."_

He didn't want to decipher the flutter of whispers scratching him. And then fight the overwhelming feeling of despair.

Falling into despair was like struggling in quicksand. The more you struggled, the quicker it consumed you.

The battle was lost if he gave in to despair. He couldn't lose hope. He had to keep fighting.

A slap in the face from an elderly lady may have attracted amused looks, but a slap across the face from an unmarried, bitter old Phoebe who absolutely despised him? It was a red flag. A red flag everyone would be analyzing and speculating every detail over. Paige would be having a field day with all the conspiracy theories against him.

But Paige's paranoia was the proverbial icing on the cake.

The more paranoid and questioning Paige got, the more uneasy Phoebe got. The more uneasy Phoebe got, the more motivation to interrogate Future Phoebe. The sooner Future Phoebe started talking, the quicker the whole nightmare could end. For all of them.

And he and Phoebe could finally get married.

Right now, all Cole could do was keep Little Phoebe company. Make sure the child was back to the happy, inquisitive child, badgering him with questions not long ago.

_"When are we going to get married?"_

Those had been the first words out of her mouth when he had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on her. It had been an answer to his indifferent  _hi_.

_"We?"_  He had been left momentarily stunned, but he recovered.

_"Uh-huh. You and me."_

Cole had cocked an eyebrow at her.  _"You're a bit too young to get married, don't you think?"_

Of course smart as she was proving to be, she had rephrased her question.

_"When are you going to marry me when I grow up?"_

_"Uh…You would have to ask Phoebe about that. But she's busy right now."_

_"Is old lady also me?_

If the 'Student of the Year' picture in her album didn't prove it, then that question most definitely did.

The kid was too smart. And too curious.

_"She is. But I don't think she would like being bothered by questions."_

_"Why?"_

_"Well because she's pretty tired right now."_

_"Cause she's old?"_

_"Yes...something like that."_

He had hoped that would be the end of it. But it had been wishful thinking.

_"Do Piper and Leo have kids?"_

He had let out a very patient sigh.  _"No. Not yet."_

" _So Piper's gonna have a kid? Is that why she's fat?"_

" _As far as I know, you're the only kid here right now. And don't let Piper ever hear you say that about her."_

He didn't need telepathy or experience and knowledge of over a century as a mercenary to predict the next set of questions...

_"Is Prue also married? Does she have kids?_ _Who's her husband?"_

Cole had never provided her the answers. Instead, he had provided her a distraction.

_"Listen, why don't you go through that album Phoebe gave you, alright?"_ He had suggested as casually as he could, so as not to arouse any suspicion _._ _"It might have the answers you're looking for..."_  And for a good measure, he added.  _"Hmm...it says here you were...student of the year? Is that right?"_

She preened and blushed. _"Yeah."_

_"I didn't know that. That's very impressive,"_ he had complimented. _"I wonder what more interesting and impressive things about you are in this album….Don't you?"_

It had worked. Phoebe took the bait.

Everything had been going well, until she had evidently stumbled across a picture of her grandmother and then noticed her gaping absence, put two and two together and realized _—_

_Where is Prue?_

The unbidden thought penetrated his mind, questioning him. Mocking him.

Grinding his teeth, Cole shoved it at the back of his mind. Finally locating the object of his quest, he grabbed the overturned tissue box off the wicker chair and strode back to the sitting room where Little Phoebe was located. "Here…." He offered her the box.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice as she accepted it.

"You're welcome." Cole then waited after a minute had passed, before he spoke. "Do you believe that too?"

"What?" She hiccupped as she dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. With the same tissue. And not in the same order.

"That your grandfather is your Grams true love?" Cole asked conversationally. "What do you think?"

Phoebe's red-rimmed eyes grew huge.

"Does this...other true love have a name?" Cole continued casually, happy to see Phoebe being further lured out of the clutches of sadness and grief by surprise.

Phoebe pursed her lips, clasped and unclasped her hands, clutched the tissue so tightly that is was reduced it to an origami of torn mess. But she still didn't utter a response.

"I'm guessing it's…Tom? Or maybe Billy?" Cole decided to help her decide. "But it could also be Ben…Christopher….Perry?"

Phoebe made a face. "No."

"No?" Cole pretended to muse deeply. "Well that's a funny name for a guy."

Phoebe's lips twitched, but they didn't form into a smile.

However it was a sign Cole was close. Just one more push. "Or perhaps he doesn't have a name?" Cole inclined his head at her. "Is that what you meant by no?"

Biting her lip uneasily, Phoebe finally...slowly confessed in a whisper.

"I'm sorry? Who?" A whisper even he couldn't catch.

Taking a very deep breath which wracked her small body, she uttered the name. "Armand."

Cole had to physically restrain himself from instinctively blurting: The Necromancer! "Oh. A-Armand…is it?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded numbly.

Cole was far from numb. He was brimming with questions, which was ridiculous. Many Armands existed in this world. He didn't understand why he connected that name with that particular demon. "Is there a last name?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

"And why do you think your grandmother would have anything to do with this...Armand?"

Considering the woman's stream of failed marriages and engagements, not to mention a cursed wedding ring to prevent another failure, it was painfully hard to imagine Penny Halliwell being even romantically linked with a demon. Unless of course it involved painful torture and excruciating vanquish of the said demon...

As for the said demon, he had been dead for over a century. Though like the Necron, the Necromancer was stuck between life and death.

Perhaps he had been a powerful demon a century ago, but now….he scrounged for magical spirits to get a fleeting taste of life. He wasn't fit to rule let alone form his own faction. He wouldn't be a threat to the Charmed Ones.

Or the throne.

It had to be a different Armand. A human. A witch even.

Phoebe glanced sideways, before she pulled out a crumbled photograph from her pocket and held it towards him.

Stunned, Cole took it and carefully unfolded the memory worn by age and Phoebe's not so fragile handling, only to have his wild guess which he debunked earlier confirmed.

The Necromancer and Penny Halliwell. A demon and witch.

Cole observed slack-jawed.

Judging by how the sisters reacted to his and Phoebe's relationship, how Phoebe reacted to the notion of a demon falling in love, they knew nothing about her grandmother's affair.

Did Penny's daughter know?

He wouldn't be surprised if Patty had also been kept in the dark.

Like the forbidden half-whitelighter child secret, Penny Halliwell took her forbidden relationship with a demon to the grave.

Not until her ten year old granddaughter from the past dug it up. The truth.

No matter what, how or even when, the truth always... _always_  had a way of revealing itself.

As Cole's mind raced over the how, when and where of the unraveled secret, the unbidden  _where_  lingered with a vengeance.

_Where is Prue?_

* * *

**A/N:** Where is Prue?

Cole:Oh she's with your mother, Grams and Andy.

Little Phoebe (gasping): Andy's dead too?

Umm...yeah...well lol, that huge problem is for another day another chapter. Not sure which one. But I do know next chapter might take awhile because of 1) real-life and 2) chapter a bit longer and the cliffhanger more evil and 3) Little Phoebe being babysat by Cole who is being slowly possessed by the Source is probably one of the hardest, insanest thing I've ever written.

If you guys want me to continue this craziness, then review. I'm not a telepath and can't read minds. So I guess the only way for me to know is through…a  **review!**  Please? :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A big thank you to Metal_Ox137, Prometheus1986, and sarahisme and 2 guests for the kudos :-)

"Where did you get this?" Cole asked slowly, studying the impeccably dressed ageless demon in a suit with a young Penny Halliwell draped too casually around someone who wasn't her husband.

"I found it," Little Phoebe replied briskly...evasively.

Cole lifted his head to regard her with an appraising look. "Found it where?"

"In a box," came the elusive reply.

"And the box was…where?"

Phoebe twisted the torn tissue she had used earlier to wipe her tears. "In...umm...Grams closet."

Cole narrowed his eyes at her. "You just happened to find this photo, in your Grams closet, one day?"

"No." She lied straight to his face, practically challenging him to contradict her. "Yesterday."

Cole's firm stance faltered. He chuckled amusedly. "Alright then."

Atleast  _yesterday_  was the truth. But as long as she didn't snatch anything from the future, he was willing to look the other way.

He did however make a mental note to tell Phoebe to give Little Phoebe a pat down before she was returned.

For now, another witch and a demon occupied his thoughts.

Cole held the stolen photograph for closer inspection. Based on his extensive knowledge about the Halliwells and the fact he had been a century old demon, he guessed the picture was taken somewhere in 1940.

Almost two hundred and fifty years after Melinda Warren was burned at stake and twenty years after Penny's mother, and her cousin , cursed and strangled their cousin, .

Phoebe's past life.

Cole reeled in the dark thoughts and proceeded with further examination of the forbidden relationship in a detached manner.

While Phoebe wasn't the only apple which didn't fall far off the forbidden tree, he always believed she was the first Halliwell to fall for a demon.

Or a ghost of a demon in this case.

Not that a witch and a demon were unheard of. The demon, Jeric and the witch, Isis were legendary in demonic circles. Not because Jeric was a guy going to unimaginable lengths to get his lost love back, after his enemies flayed her alive. It was because he was responsible for the deaths of countless witches for over millennia as he sought a perfect replacement body for the disembodied Isis.

"Hmm..." Cole mused, carefully smoothing the creases of the old photograph.

He had a hard time imagining Grams feeding the Necromancer spirits of the dead to sustain him in the name of love. Or even falling in love.

But somehow, someway, the Necromancer had weaseled his way into Penny Halliwell's heart.

"Could Armand be my real grandpa?"

Cole gaped at the small version of his fiancée in astonishment.

"Rick Gitterdge's dad really turned out to be not his Dad and Ramona's Mom turned out to be not—" Phoebe listed examples of what he could only guess were her classmates as her imagination practically raced with wild possibilities. "Is Armand...Mommy's real dad?"

After processing the babbling, Cole couldn't help it. He let out a laugh. Of course the scowl on her face made him stop. "I...don't think so. That's not possible."

"Why?" she practically demanded. If a mortal's glare could vanquish, this one would've had a demon burning and screaming in agony by now.

Cole quickly straightened himself and cleared his throat.

"A picture really doesn't prove anything. You need something a little more substantial...solid," he explained as simply as he could to a ten year old. "And, you better return this before your Grams finds it missing." He handed her back the photograph. "I don't think she'll appreciate anyone going through her belongings."

Phoebe slowly folded the photograph and stuffed it inside her jean's pocket. The ten-year old then wrung the maligned tissue she clutched before speaking again, "I found Grams' secret diary too."

Cole bit down a groan. "Oh. Did you now?" He half-expected her to materialize the said secret diary out of thin air.

"Is a secret diary substantial? And solid?"

"Maybe. But what makes you think it's your grandmother's  _secret_  diary?"

"Cause she wrote the secret ingredient of her blueberry cobbler." Phoebe flung the corpse of the tissue at the waste basket. It missed. "It's honey. And splash of rum." She huffed before her expression became conflicted. "And she also wrote things about Armand...that his favorite dinner is lamb chops with mint jelly and he likes Clark Gable movies and wine and enjoying...uh..." She blushed and shifted uncomfortably, not willing to say what Cole had a pretty good idea of. She finally gave up and proclaimed vehemently: "You only write things about a boy if you really  _really_  love him!"

Cole felt the corners of his mouth emerge into a small smile. "Is that so?"

_Cole likes walks in the park, jazz, fine wine. He's ticklish (toes and waist especially) He's an excellent salsa dancer, pretends otherwise. He likes steak, medium rare, and artichokes. He's great in bed. Good stamina._

The additional information and the photograph of Belthazor's human half weren't in the Book anymore. Phoebe had torn the page. The photo however, was kept in a box, buried under a mountain of clothes in her closet.

He suspected the same didn't apply for Penny Halliwell.

Unlike Phoebe, Penny must've destroyed all evidence of her involvement with Armand. For awhile, she may have kept some treasured belongings under lock and key. Up until the point she discovered she had a heart condition.

"A-And you only write  _those_  kind of things about a boy... if you actually did it...with the boy..."

Or when one of her granddaughters travelled to the future and showed him of all people a picture of her demon lover.

And then began speculating intimate details about her secret love life.

"I get the picture Phoebe," Cole cut in quickly.

But atleast he didn't have to deal with uncomfortable topics like where babies came from. Phoebe obviously knew too much.

"Grams cheated on Grandpa didn't she?"

Cole groaned inwardly.

He just had to deal with the topic of infidelity and children born out of wedlock.

"Phoebe…." He felt the beginning of a migraine not caused by the Source. "Number one, Armand isn't a boy. Second of all, not that it's any of our business, maybe your Grams did like this...man—"

"Really  _really_  like," Phoebe interjected.

"Okay…" Cole inhaled patiently. "Really like Armand," he corrected. "And maybe she even—"

"Cheated on grandpa?"

"No. Maybe  _she_  liked him too. But a photograph and writing about his favorite meals and other hobbies doesn't prove that your grandmother—"

"Cheated on fake Grandpa?"

"Or that Armand is your mother's father. Or your grandfather."

If rumors were true, Penny became a demon hunter after her husband was killed. Armand may have happened before that. But In between her marriage? Or something akin to Patty's affair after being separated, not divorced? It was hard to say anything without more information. Grams' little black book of spells and recipes wasn't enough to prove infidelity, As for Phoebe's lineage….

"One thing I know for sure is you're Phoebe Halliwell. Not Phoebe Armand."

"How do you know?" The impatient child glowered at him, still wanting to believe her mother was the product of a love affair between her grandmother and a secret lover.

"Trust me, I just know."

"How?" Phoebe still wanted tangible proof. Details. "How do you know?"

Aside from the fact neither she, her sister nor her mother ever displayed any demonic powers by now, if Penny could find a way to raise her half-demon daughter, then she would've found a way to keep her half-whitelighter quarter demon granddaughter.

But one thing proved beyond reasonable doubt whose granddaughter Phoebe was.

Belthazor.

His vanquished demonic half.

_"I can always sense it. Before I suppressed my demonic self for Phoebe, I can sense how human killers form inside."_

Cole would've sensed it. He would've known if she was a demon or half demon, half-witch or plainly just a human killer; be it a psychopath, serial killer or both wrapped in one and possessed by guardian demons.

The only time he ever sensed anything like bloodlust or darkness from Phoebe was when the High Priestess Dantalian, had turned Prue evil through a marriage ceremony to a warlock —

"HOW!"

Cole winced.

—and when Phoebe nearly shattered his ear drums with a Banshee's scream.

"Alright..." He cleared his throat as he looked at her. "Is your favorite dinner lamb chops with mint jelly?"

"No! Killing a-and eating little baby sheep is cruel and heartless!" The protection of innocent creatures shone through her brightly. "And gross."

"Okay." That practically ruled out any sociopath tendencies. One of the first sign of serial killer in children were usually animal killings. "Do you like Clark Gable?"

"I don't even know who that is."

"Wine?"

Phoebe pouted. "Grams won't let me drink."

Cole raised an eyebrow at her. "Smart woman."

Phoebe skewered him with a wry look, still waiting for evidence. Still not convinced of her ancestry and lineage.

"Did you know Grams changed her last name to Halliwell after she married your grandfather?"

Phoebe lowered her eyes, the definition of ashamed. "Grams said women always keep their last names in our family."

"Well then she must've really loved your grandfather to do that. Don't you think?" He gave her something to ponder about. "If your Grams had kept her last name, then you and your sisters' last names would've been…Johnson or even Warren—"

Phoebe just stared at him blankly. "Warren?"

Cole sighed, not wanting to indulge her curiosity. "Never mind. The important thing is that, you're Phoebe Halliwell, granddaughter of Penelope Johnson and—"

"Allen Halliwell," she finished resignedly…disappointedly. "I'm a Halliwell."

Cole sighed heavily.

He always hated the disappointed look and the tone of Phoebe's voice. Little Phoebe managed to mimic it perfectly.

"Is there a reason you don't want to be a Halliwell?" he prodded gently. "Why is it important to be related to Armand?"

"No reason," she responded glumly, avoiding eye contact.

"Uh-Huh…." he remarked dubiously, his curiosity only increasing. "Did you want to find him? Is that why you're carrying around that picture?"

Phoebe shook her head, shuffled her feet, but never elaborated.

"Well then, why?"

Phoebe had moved to New York looking for her father four years ago. Was this an earlier attempt to fill the void left by her father? By playing Cupid to get her grandmother together with Armand? Could a ten year old kid even pull off such a bold plan?

His answer was a question instead. "Are you a police officer?"

"Uh…No." He blinked at the unexpected query. "What makes you think I am one?"

She frowned at him disapprovingly. "Cause you ask too many questions."

" _I_  ask too many questions?" Cole asked between amused and incredulous.

"Uh-huh. You do."

"Hmm," Cole murmured amused.

Perhaps he had been asking those questions which were hitting a nerve. And Little Phoebe didn't appreciate it. The only reason people don't want other people asking questions are when things needed to be hidden.

While his reasons for keeping secrets besides having no choice was of course, the future consequences, what could possibly be Phoe—Little Phoebe's reasons?

"Andy's dad also does that," Phoebe continued, avoiding whatever that was bothering her. "And he also wears the same jacket."

"Andy's dad has good taste then."

But he decided not to pursue the matter. Phoebe wouldn't give him a straight answer anyway. And knowing her track record with secrets, she'll reveal it sooner or later.

Cole chuckled to himself.

And really, what deep dark secret could a child have anyway? Killed the neighbor's cat? Killed the ice cream man? Switched bodies with her long-lost sister?

"Andy says he wants to be like his Dad when he grows up. Catch bad guys."

For now there was nothing demonic about Phoebe Halliwell. Nothing inside of her to suggest the making of serial killer or a demonic one otherwise. Sure there was a dark side. Everyone had a dark side. If a soul didn't have a dark side, then he would've had a happy child giggling as if she had snuffed too much fairy dust.

Little Phoebe's dark side right now was lying, keeping secrets and stealing photograph from her grandmother.

Nothing demonic about that. No dark aura. No homicidal tendencies...nothing brewing beneath the surface of the ten year old girl.

"So are you a police officer too? Is that your job?"

She was only brewing with a million and one questions.

"Well I'm not a cop or….police," he said eventually. "But I've worked with them from time to time."

Phoebe eagerly looked at him, waiting for him to reveal his job.

"I'm a lawyer." The greatest unemployed lawyer for now.

The eagerness immediately left her face. "Oh."

"Oh?" Curiosity literally scratched at him. He wondered if he should've selected a different occupation when lying.

Phoebe scrunched her face. "Grams said all lawyers are evil and should be vanquished to the deepest pits of hell."

"Oh." He now perfectly understood her reaction. "Alright...Well..." He wet his lips, wondering how best to tackle the issue. "Seeing as you're a very smart girl, do you really think Phoeb—uh…your future self would've agreed to marry me if I was the—" Words got stuck in his throat, as if it was being squeezed. "E-Evil?" He finally breathed out. The strangulating hold disappeared.

Phoebe expelled a noisy breath and shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose not…"

"Then you also probably understand what your grandmother said…about lawyers being evil..." He gently rubbed his neck. "You know it was just an exaggeration. It's not true."

"Yeah I know." Phoebe nodded, understandingly before she literally sucker punched him with what she said next. "Nathaniel Fat says he wants to be a lawyer so he can put people away in jail."

"Nathaniel?" Cole suddenly felt admirable respect for a woman who had raised Phoebe. The shocks and surprises Phoebe kept pouring down would've had a heart patient flat lined by now. "Nathaniel Pratt?"

"Yeah. Him," Phoebe confirmed, completely oblivious to the consequences of the revelation. "He said he's gonna be a lawyer someday."

"I'm sorry..." Cole still reeled with mind numbing shock. "How...how exactly do you know him...this kid, Nathaniel again? Is he one of your classmates?"

She made a face. "He's not a kid. He's as old as you," she corrected him, only increasing his worries to epic proportions. "He visits homeowners' meeting with his Mom," she relayed indignantly. "He's always eating all our cookies and ice cream...and chocolates!" She complained. "Grams doesn't even stop him. She lets him get away with it."

"So he's…Pratt is your neighbor?" Cole slowly processed.

"Uh-huh. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Andy's our neighbor. He's our faraway neighbor," she clarified.

Cole chuckled humorlessly. "I see."

That still didn't make it better.

All this time, he had been risking his life to protect her from demons from hell. And she deemed it insignificant to mention the man, who abhorred witches as much as demons did and was single-handedly responsible for landing her on the pyre was living right next door.

Or faraway door.

Then again, she had never considered it important to mention to him they had a shadow demon living right under the basement. However, she didn't hesitate to mention the  _Woogy_  to Paige when she had been merely a stranger here.

"So, Pratt wants to be a lawyer now?" Cole inquired briskly, willing himself to remain calm, cool...rational. Powers were tied to emotions. Anger and hate were triggers for almost all demonic powers.

And an easy way for the Source to gain full control of him.

"That's what he says." Phoebe shrugged, not really caring.

Cole wrung his hands repeatedly, keeping violent emotions at bay. "Any idea where this sudden interest in law came from?"

What had motivated Pratt?

Anger?

Hatred?

Revenge?

Cole gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

Phoebe?

"I don't know, I didn't ask him," Phoebe told him. "But Ramona says it's cause he wants to be a president or something later and save the world."

"Sounds very ambitious of Pratt." Ambitious enough to start modern day version of the Salem witch trials…

"And crazy," Phoebe murmured, not really caring about Pratt's goals and plans for the future. "Rick says there isn't a fat chance of that happening."

To her it seemed ridiculous.

And just maybe, the idea of a ten year old pushing a man to become a future witch hunter was insane.

But men like Pratt were far from insane.

He should know.

Cole lowered his eyes, his anger subsiding.

He worked with men like him on All Hallow's Eve in the 17th century, to turn the whole Halliwell line evil.

Not something he was proud of.

Not something Phoebe would be proud of as well if she had been in his shoes. Enough to be ashamed to share her past.

Or alternate future past, in this case.

"But I guess Pratt's not really bad if he wants to save the world. So not all lawyers are bad," Phoebe concluded.

Cole drew in an unsteady breath and raked a hand through his hair. "That's one way of putting it."

Perhaps his reaction over Pratt was a bit crazy and ridiculous. Born out of his fierceness to protect Phoebe.

Because realistically, what could he tell her? Stay far away from Pratt? Don't talk to him, don't call him names, don't invite him for dinner; don't even breathe the same air as him?

It would only invite twenty million questions from her.

Worst case scenario?

It could change both the present and future.

Telling her to stay away from Pratt because he could be dangerous for her would be similar to telling her to stay away from all her delinquint high school friends, alcohol, drugs and rebellious behavior.

If Phoebe grew up to be nice like Piper or responsible and uptight like Prue because of his meddling, she wouldn't hesitate to vanquish a century old demon who fell in love with a Charmed One.

So whatever influence Pratt had...will have on her, he couldn't mess with it.

Besides, Pratt had obviously moved out of the neighborhood. Phoebe had obviously forgotten about his existence. And as proven by Old Phoebe, the future changed.

Phoebe wasn't burning at the stake. She was only burning with hatred.

For him.

He should consider himself lucky. The more Future Phoebe hated him, the more motivation for Present Phoebe to change her future.

"Are lawyers psychic too?"

Cole welcomed the change of topics. "And why would you think we're psychics?"

"Cause you know things."

"You mean I can accurately guess things?" He rephrased.

"Yeah." To her, it was the same thing.

"Well...lawyers get good at reading people...understanding them."

Phoebe gnawed at her lip and fiddled with her bracelet. "Grams...she can sometimes do that too."

Cole chuckled. "I think all grandmothers have that ability naturally."

Phoebe continued to fiddle with her bracelet, but she finally returned to the topic she had been avoiding. "I am really not…an Armand. Am I?" she asked quietly, hopefully.

Cole vaguely wondered if accusing Grams of cheating had been a coping mechanism to deal with shock and trauma of her death. "Sorry kid." And he hated himself for being the one to crush her hope again. "You're neither an Armand or were secretly adopted."

It flashed across her face for a mere second, but the cringedidn't go unnoticed.

Cole narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly, a ten year old's deep, dark secret didn't seem childish and silly anymore.

And whatever it was, he sensed it had nothing to do with grief or shock over Grams' passing. There was something more. A lot more Phoebe wasn't revealing. It was something bigger than Armand. And Pratt.

Cole had only scratched the surface of it. Of course before he could delve deeper...

"How do you know Pratt?"

...Phoebe changed the subject.

"I don't." Cole replied, studying her intently. "Never even met the guy."

"Then how did you know it was Pratt?"

"What was Pratt, Phoebe?" he asked, distracted by what she was concealing than what she was saying. Putting pressure on her to reveal won't do any good. It would have the opposite effect of her guarding her secrets more fiercely. He had to tread carefully.

"If you're not psychic, how come you know Nathaniel's last name is Pratt?" Phoebe repeated, frustrated before her eyes grew huge. "Is he really the president now?"

Her words finally sunk in.

"Preside—No! Of course not."

"The how come you know his name?"

"Well because he's..." Cole trailed off, not because he didn't know, but because he knew.

Pratt was a local District Attorney who had discovered and successfully prosecuted Phoebe for the murder of a baseball player. Not to mention began the witch trials.

But that wasn't the only thing Cole knew.

He knew anger...fury...rage and hatred. How the rage and need for vengeance, almost surpassed Fury Piper's thirst for punishing evil.

Cal Greene had been let off due to a technicality. A loophole. And she had waited outside his physical therapy room, at the stadium, concealed under a staircase to rectify the flaw.

From the excruciating experience with bounty hunters' lightning powers to being struck with energyballs of all voltages, Cole knew when Phoebe had placed her hands around Cal's head and bolts of electricity sparked from her palms, the man would be dead in mid-air.

"He's...what?" Little Phoebe's voice burst into his reminscing of memories which didn't belong to him. "Pratt is what?"

"He's..." He staggered as if he had been the one physically struck—shocked along with Cal Greene. He grabbed on to the nearest piece of furniture to steady himself.

"Cole? Are you okay?"

"F-Fine. I'm fine," he lied, fighting down a storm of emotions from overwhelming him. "Just a...just a headache. Don't worry."

He slowly inhaled, needing to ease his racing mind as it tried to make sense of everything.

Cal Greene. Nathaniel Pratt. Hobart State Penitentiary. February 26, 2009...Phoebe had never shared those with him. They weren't anywhere in the information Triad had provided.

His imagination could never create such vivid details.

Her future powers were definitely not a creation of his imagination. Levitation, he could dream about. But the other power...electrokinesis? He didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

That power…it was not a natural progression of either premonition or levitation. He didn't want to analyze or make assumptions about how she had acquired it.

" _Trust me...avenging an innocent feels ...pretty damn good_." Phoebe's comforting words from long ago rang in his ears. Unlike before, they suffocated him.

He didn't want to know anymore.

The desire to know , to seek, it must've triggered it.

How many times had he wished he could just know what Phoebe was thinking? Wish he could read her mind?

Know her secrets?

Cole snatched his hand back, hovering behind Little Phoebe for God knows how long. Glowing.

He didn't remember. But the need to know...it had always been unconscious...natural.

_"The Source's magic brought you. I see you accepting that very soon."_

"It's cause he's a lawyer too? Is that how you know Pratt?" Phoebe gazed up at him, her expression innocent and naïve. Nothing like the look on her face when she had finally released her hold on Cal...

_"Remorseless to the end..."_

"Cole?"

Gripping his palms tightly, enough to draw blood, Cole finally nodded. "Yes..." Somewhere among the echo of whispers, laughter reverberated inside his head. "Something like that I suppose." He restrained himself from giving into fear.

But just for a split second, he wondered, how long before he became a voice...a mere whisper inside his own head...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope there was no confusion about Cole/Source's mind-reading powers. Shimmering here, flaming there and TK is simple enough to write. But writing powers like telepathy, empathy...especially when it's not under control, hard!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was feeling generous :-)

"Would Grandpa be mad?"

"Who?"

"My real grandfather. Would he be mad?"

"For what?" Cole asked distractedly, flexing his hand for the thousandth time. The same hand in which he used to conjure and hold energy balls; the hand which possessed the power to take a life away. The hand which had been hovering over Little Phoebe's head for God knows how long.

"That Grams liked Armand. Cause she wrote stuff about him in her secret diary?" Phoebe continued her questioning, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"I...I don't think your grandfather is sort of a person to hold a grudge against someone."

The eerie white glow had disappeared. The questions however kept haunting him.

How much? How much had been information acquired through using the Source's powers and not through years of experience?

Is that how he instantly guessed Armand's identity? About Grams changing her last name? That P. Russel was strangled by her cousins?

About Nathaniel Pratt?

And exactly when did he read Phoebe—Present Phoebe's mind? When she confronted him earlier outside the bathroom? While she was sleeping safely in his arms? While they were making love?

Cole grinded his teeth and crushed his hand into a fist.

It won't be happening again. Consciously or unconsciously, he won't be using the Source's powers ever again.

"Can there be two true loves?"

He welcomed the distraction Little Phoebe's curiosity brought, even if it posed a surprising question. "What?"

Phoebe chewed on her lower lip for a moment before speaking again. "Can someone have two true loves?"

"I'm...not sure." He didn't know how much he could actually offer on the subject. He was probably as new to the whole concept of love as her. "Maybe." If Patty and Victor and Patty's affair with her whitelighter was considered. Though the thought of anyone else kissing and touching Phoebe stirred the last emotion he wanted to experience with the Source of all Evil residing within him.

"So was Armand…Grams' s other true love?" Phoebe asked in a hushed voice as if her Grams or grandfather would overhear.

Cole sighed, taking a deep calming breath, expelling thoughts of Phoebe with someone else. "I think only your Grams or Armand can answer that."

Phoebe heaved a huge sigh of disappointment. "Grams can see him now too."

Cole frowned. "Who? Your grandfather?"

"No. Armand," she clarified solemnly and he was glad for he first time his guess was wrong. "He's dead too."

"Oh..." Luckily, he didn't need to feign emotion for the bad news. "That's terrible..." But not surprising considering Penny's track record with relationships and her resentment and bitterness against mankind. Add in the fact Armand wasn't a man and was already dead….it just wasn't meant to be.

He frowned, something occurring to him.

Phoebe obviously had been through her grandmother's belongings before. And had obviously been caught. How else had she known whether Armand was dead or not if not from her grandmother?

However, if Phoebe believed Armand had been dead all along, then why go looking for him? Why believe or want to believe he was still alive out there?

What did she want? What was she hiding?

The white glow started again, but Cole firmly folded his arms, tucking in his hands.

He didn't want to know. He stomped on the compulsion to seek, to analyze, to extract information. He wasn't going to accidentally venture into her mind again.

Besides, Little Phoebe didn't have anything interesting. Future Phoebe was the one with the secrets. And he was going to stay far away from her as possible. Lucky for him, she seemed to share the same sentiment.

"So…how did Armand...pass away?" Cole asked curiously, choosing the normal way to get information out of a ten year old.

"Grams said he died in an accident," Phoebe divulged non-committally.

"What kind of accident?"

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders as she leaned deeper into the living room sofa. "I don't know she wouldn't say. She just said Armand died when Mommy was just a baby." An annoyed look crossed her face. "Grandpa also died in an accident. But Grams didn't tell me how," she said frustrated before adding miserably. "Nobody ever tells me anything."

For the second time that evening, Little Phoebe shocked Cole into a stupor.

 _Just a baby_.

Armand died when Patty Halliwell was just a baby.

In other words, vanquished at Patty Halliwell's wiccaning by Penny Halliwell. When Armand attacked the Halliwell spirits.

Cole slowly unfolded his hands, not needing the power to read minds to know how it had happened.

If absorbing the Halliwell spirits had always been the Necromancer's end game, he would've needed to enter into the Halliwell's lives somehow. A family friend, a fellow witch; many roles he could've adopted easily.

Armand had to be one of the few demons who actually craved human life. He, Drake Dè Mon and Kira the Seer were infamous for being a bit…human. Not just appearance wise. With the latter claimed to have never killed an innocent.

They could easily go undercover, blended in the human world without needing to be a lawyer, detective, judge or any profession demons usually pursued to gain their footing.

In a year or so, the Necromancer would've gained Penny's trust, vanquished demons with her if necessary. Acted like the perfect friend, perfect ear to listen to...a shoulder to lean on and so charming that a married Penny Halliwell had fallen for him.

And then he betrayed her.

And she killed him. Or banished him.

The death of her husband, followed by a string of failed marriages, coupled with the death of her only daughter, all must've furthered her slide to hatred and bitterness for men until she….

" _Can you give me a little hint? Do you guys get divorced? Does he, um, does he cheat on you? Did you ever get married?"_

" _What makes you think we aren't married in the future?"_

" _Because there's no wedding ring on your finger."_

….completely gave up on love.

"Grams also yelled at me for going through her stuff," Little Phoebe mumbled grudgingly, twisting the ends of the cushion. "But going through my stuff is okay and if I yell, I'm rude." She grumbled at the unfairness. "I don't know what's the big deal with not knowing more about Armand and her other husbands. She also doesn't tell me anything about her secret admirer who brings her flowers."

"That's nice of him."

Without realizing, Cole began pacing, agitatedly, back and forth, trying to digest the earth shattering epiphany

"Yeah, but he's always dropping the flowers. He's nice, but Grams is mean to him," she complained. "She's always slamming the door in his face. And telling him to get lost."

His jacket suddenly felt heavy...stifling. Yanking it off , he tossed it over one of the chairs. He then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and resumed pacing.

Phoebe resumed her narration of Grams secret admirer. "She won't even let us keep the flowers. She just kills them….."

For the one hundredth time that evening, Cole looked up at the stairs.

For a magical book passed down for centuries, flipped pages on its own, had two pages dedicated to Belthazor, helped locate Paige and almost killed him, the Book of Shadows was conveniently silent on Kurzon.

At the rate the search was going, Kurzon would probably attack soon and become the next Source.

_Too bad Belthazor's gone. He would have made a great new Source._

Cole rapidly massaged his throbbing temples, trying to muffle his own chaotic thoughts along with the whispers not his own.

"I don't get why she does that to him."

His agitated headache induced glance again fell on Paige's notes peeking from her purse.

Witches, Salem, witch trials all stared back at him.

The last thing Little Phoebe needed right now was accidentally discovering the darkside of witches and witchcraft. To know about demons, demonic possession and how evil was very real. And she was a target of all of them thanks to Destiny. That magic wasn't fairy god mothers, princess or mermaids, prince charmings...that throne and ruling weren't without bloodshed…. that relationships end...love doesn't save people in the—

With a few strides, Cole reached the foyer and covered Paige's brown coat over her mismatched blue bag.

Of course at the angle she had left it in, her bag tumbled down, contents spilling out.

"Dammit!" He cursed.

"Cole?" Little Phoebe's worried voice called out from the living.

"It's nothing!" Cole quickly called back, gathering the spilled contents of the bag. "You were telling me something about..a secret admirer, was it?"

"Yeah. I don't know why Grams really hates him so much. And why he's always dropping flowers he buys for her."

"Uh-huh." Cole murmured as he roughly stuffed everything from fifty shades of lip gloss to female hygiene products into Paige's bottomless bag.

He halted his manhandling of Paige's cosmetics and turned to Paige's tarot cards, three of them most specifically: Lovers, Death and Despair.

After his involvement in killing Seers and prophets on behalf of the Brotherhood of Thorn, he knew what they meant.

It meant the same thing for all forbidden relationships. Whether Isis and Jeric, Sam and Patty...Grams and Armand. Or P. Russel and Anton. Melinda Warren and Matthew Tate...

"I don't know why she had so many husbands after Grandpa and Armand if she hates every guy. She said it had never worked out. And it's none of my business to be asking such things. Why didn't it work out?"

"It happens." He shoved the tarot cards into Paige's bag, not caring if they were ripped in the process. "It's not anybody's fault."

 _Your fault_ ….a voice inside him couldn't help but point out and Cole couldn't help, but finish it's trailed off sentence.

Phoebe would have trouble finding love after him. She would be hurt so badly that she can never be happy agai—

"But why does it happen?" There was a scuffle of shoes before he felt Phoebe's presence behind him. "Do you…do you need to be true love for things to work out? Is that why everyone left Grams?"

Cole halted his wayward thoughts. He halted punishing Paige's handbag. Heaving a huge sigh, he finally turned to face her.

"Phoebe I….I don't know what happened sixty years ago why you gave up on—" Cole shook his blunder. "Why your grandmother gave up on finding love…." He placed Paige's bag at an angle it wouldn't topple off again and dusted his hands. "What I do know is that you and your sisters matter more to her than the idea of true love. She would choose her granddaughters over all of her husbands, boyfriends and secret admirers out there," Cole provided the right words to answer Phoebe's question for now. Or the words Phoebe kept telling herself why Grams gave up on love or how Prue sacrificed her childhood or—

"It's stupid," Phoebe muttered, stubbornly looking down at her feet. "Grams didn't need to choose so she could take care of us."

Cole squished away Phoebe's lingering thoughts and doubts he had accidentally acquired. He also tried not to think of the bitter old woman upstairs named Phoebe Halliwell, the granddaughter of the bitter Penny Halliwell."I think it's admirable. And besides..." He tried to lighten the solemn atmosphere. "You don't want an aunt or uncle who would be just a baby?"

"I like having babies," Little Phoebe responded defensively.

"Well….uh…that's…" Cole found himself stammering, suddenly at a loss of words. "Uh…that's good to know." With how scared Phoebe was of saying yes to marriage, he had believed saying yes to kids would be….near to impossible. And a former demon, mercenary, agent of Triad didn't exactly scream father of year.

And of course with the Source...

"It's still stupid," Phoebe's mumble thankfully interrupted any thoughts about babies as she stubbornly folded her arms and glared at the floor again.

Cole opened his mouth then closed it, knowing arguing would be pointless with a ten year old. "Why don't you go look at your album again?"

Phoebe glowered at him. "I looked at it twice already."

"I see," Cole uttered before he tried a different tactic. One to quell his nagging curiosity without the accidental use of the Source's powers. "Alright then, why don't we talk about what's been bothering you?"

Phoebe blinked stunned, before she impressively adopted a clueless expression. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Cole arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yup." Phoebe grinned brightly at him.

"Uh-huh." Cole folded his arms. "Then why can I see your wisdom teeth?"

Confusion scrubbed away Phoebe's grin. "Wisdom teeth?"

"Every time you lie, I can see your wisdom teeth," Cole revealed.

Phoebe's jaw comically dropped.

"So are you sure there's nothing at all you want to tell me?"

Phoebe's jaw snapped shut again."No," she huffed coldly, maintaining her stubbornness and lie.

"Hmm...if you say so. But if there was something...anything...anyone." Cole noticed Phoebe's body tense at the last word. "You can tell me."

She bit her bottom lip harshly. Cole was suddenly sure she was going to give up her tightly kept secret.

"I'm gonna look at album again," she declared instead.

"Okay but if you need to talk—"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"But if there was—"

"Then I tell you. You said that already." She scowled at him. "You don't have to repeat it." Before he could say anything to counter that, she was stomping back into the living room.

Despite not unraveling her secret, Cole smiled, genuinely impressed with her ability to keep a secret for so long.

Right now. This moment. The present. That was all that mattered.

Not the past shenanigans of Penny Halliwell and a demon who had obviously been vanquished when he had attacked Patty Halliwell's wiccaning with the goal of absorbing the Halliwell spirits.

Besides Cole made assumptions on an old photograph, the words of a ten year old and his experience and research which was restricted to how to kill witches. Not who was involved with whom. He could be right or wrong.

There was no proof of how things happened almost sixty years ago. Or would happen forty years later in the future.

Grams grew up in a completely different era. So her issues with men could've stemmed from more than just a broken heart over a demon, she may or may not have loved.

There were similarities between everything. If he wanted too, he would probably see similarities in every forbidden relationship. Single most prominent, death, despair and fiery vanquishes. If he constantly worried about them, he and Phoebe would've never made it so far.

Divination was already complicated enough without the complication of spell involved.

Besides, the past didn't matter, the future did.

All that was going to change soon.

Armand and Penny and all those doomed couples didn't have two things.

Phoebe's Future self—a walking talking premonition and Little Phoebe.

Future Phoebe had no choice but to tell Phoebe everything. Otherwise the spell won't return her and Little Phoebe to their respective time.

With the constant onslaught of demonic attacks, Little Phoebe needed to be returned as soon as possible.

Phoebe maybe stubborn—a trait which ran in the family for generations dating back to Charlotte Warren—but no matter how old and bitter, no matter how much she hated him, she wouldn't risk the life of a ten year old girl.

They'll soon discover what had happened to him from her.

_"Even now I can see the void where your demon half used to exist. It craves to be complete again."_

They'll soon figure it out.

" _If you take in the Hollow, you can absorb the Source's power when he attacks. Once powerless, they can vanquish him."_

" _And what happens to me after?"_

" _The witches and I will banish the Hollow back to its crypt. You will return to normal."_

What the exact implications of the word Piper Halliwell spoke so often meant.

" _I don't understand, if we got our powers back, where did the Source's go?"_

" _Into the void."_

What the Seer did. How he was tricked and manipulated. What he didn't understand until it was too late.

" _You never told me I would become the Source if I help vanquish him!"_

" _Don't be naive. I told you of my vision. Of you and I doing great things together, this is just the beginning."_

It was only a matter of time the secret came out and the Seer failed. Her plan blowing up in her face.

Cole smirked.

He wouldn't mind seeing her explode along with her failed plan. For threatening Phoebe, he would personally take great pleasure in Seer's fiery demise.

As for the Source…..

" _You cannot change your fate. As you can see the evil within you won't allow it."_

" _I'll fight it, I'll kill it. I'll find a way."_

" _There is no way. If you weren't clinging to the love for your witch so vigorously, it would've over taken you by now. It's only a matter of time."_

If it was true...if he really couldn't be saved...then he would keep his promise to the Seer.

Death would be a small price to pay for tying up this little loose end. If he was going down, so were Seer and Source.

He was not going to be a puppet to intact their plans. To hurt Phoebe. He would rather die than ever hurt Phoebe.

If he couldn't be saved, then he was ready to die. By Charmed Ones hands or his own if possible. He was prepared.

_You know, the one thing you failed to consider, Cole, is no matter how dangerous Davidson is to us, you're more dangerous…._

The anger at Seer...the Source...the injustice of it all, it all vanished...

" _You're a part of our lives now. You know almost everything about us._ "

Almost?

Cole raked a hand through his hair as Prue's words haunted him about the Seekers incident.

No.

Everything.

He knew everything. He was aware of everything. Their strengths, weaknesses, desires, hopes, dreams—everything. He knew them better than any demon or warlock out there. Maybe even better than the Source himself.

And now whatever he knew, the Source knew as well.

_"If you lost..."_

Cole shook his head furiously.

He couldn't even afford the thought of losing the internal battle before Phoebe had a chance to save him. Too much was at stake.

He knew that.

He wasn't naive.

Cole sighed, bowing his head.

How could he be?

He had been a demon for over a century. The last thing a mercenary, a soldier of fortune would be naive.

" _Back in your once and future life... Belthazor."_

The last thing he wouldn't know...wouldn't sense what lay behind those cryptic words.

" _I had a vision. One where you and I do great things together."_

The last thing he wouldn't wonder quite at length would be how a mortal could do great things together with a demonic Seer.

" _Is this the great thing you saw us doing together?"_

" _Perhaps. However, you won't even know unless the Source is stopped first..."_

The last thing he would ignore is his instincts, which screamed at him to find another way. The part of him which knew better than to trust the Seer, the part of him that wondered why destroying the Source of all Evil this way felt too easy...

" _You might reconsider…if you hope to save your precious witch…"_

The last thing...the absolutely last thing Cole Turner would ever do is let Phoebe Halliwell die.

" _Um, I had a premonition. A demon attacked and you jumped in front of a fireball to save me."_

Some premonitions were meant to happen. Somethings can't be changed. Some things were inevitable. Sometimes there was no choice.

" _The Source knew we'd be prepared, that's why he came after our powers. The Source knew we had an in-house healer, that's why he came after Leo. He knows what we're gonna do before we even do."_

Cole took a deep, shuddering breath.

Maybe he should've found another way. Maybe he shouldn't have trusted the Seer. Maybe he shouldn't have taken in the Hollow. Maybe he should've thought of the consequences.

A lot of maybes. But one thing was certain.

The Source would've killed Phoebe.

Corrupted by the Hollow, consumed by madness, the Source would've destroyed the world. And the first casualty would've been Phoebe.

If he didn't take in the Hollow, the fireball would've killed him. If he had hesitated searching for another way. If he had waited...then the Source would've done what he had failed to do that day when he had dispatched his demonic guards. The same thing would've happened to her what had happened to Prue. Only worst.

He had no choice. He knew he should've put it all together. He wasn't naive. But...

" _It's your only chance to save your love."_

Cole closed his eyes, cradling his head.

The Source would've killed Phoebe.

He had no choice.

"There's always a choice, Cole."

The voice was soft, caressing…familiar.

"Phoebe…." He uttered, not needing to look behind him to know who stood there. Even as a blind man, he would know. Which was something peculiar….

"I didn't hear you come in," he expressed his observation. Observing such little things had always been a necessary part of him. An essential skill for keeping him alive in his former life. Phoebe might possess the power of levitation and a be somewhat skilled in martial arts, but those two were not enough to sneak up on him.

"Really?" Phoebe questioned his doubts. "Are you sure about that?"

Cole inhaled harshly and shut his eyes when her fingers gently traced the contours of his face.

He mentally reprimanded himself. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts. How could he notice? It didn't matter where she came from. Only that she was here.

"Phoebe…I…" He wanted to ask her about Kurzon, whether Future Phoebe revealed anything about the future. About him. He wanted to tell her everything. "I'm not evil…I'm not…I'm not the..."

He wanted to warn her. To stay away from him.

But she shushed him with a finger against his lips. "That's okay…I'm no angel either."

His breathing deepened when her soft lips skimmed his jaw.

He didn't know how or when he turned around. Or when her arms slid around him, pulling him close, but he let himself settle into the warm comfort of her embrace. Second to his father's mausoleum, the safest place he knew in the world was with Phoebe.

The Triad, the Source, witch and demon...none of that mattered when he was with her. He could always forget about everything…get lost….just let go...

"I wish the whole world was right in this room..." Phoebe whispered between lingering kisses on his neck.

"So we wouldn't have to worry about what happens next," Cole whispered huskily, holding her tightly.

"Yes…Exactly…" He felt his face being cradled between her hands...his head being slowly pulled down to meet her lips...

Without wasting another moment, Cole dove forward and captured her lips.

He barely felt her arms encircling his neck.

It felt like a lifetime ago since he had kissed her. Whispered how much he loved her. Even if a part of him was vanquished, struggling to identify who he was without his demonic half, he was absolutely sure about one thing.

He completely, utterly loved Phoebe Halliwell.

Cole drew back from the kiss, eyes closed, his head leaning against her forehead. "I love you," he said breathlessly. "I love you, Phoebe. "

"And here I thought I was being subtle..." Phoebe murmured, amused before closing her mouth over his in another searing kiss.

Despite the tugging at the back of his consciousness, Cole again found himself getting lost.

When it came to Phoebe nothing had ever mattered. His better judgment...instincts...nothing. She didn't need a spell to make him do whatever she wanted. He would gladly do it. No one in heaven or hell had that power over him.

If she asked him to risk his life to save her older sister who would rather see him vanquished to hell, he would. If she asked him to come to her sister's funeral despite all bounty hunters on his tail, he would. If she transformed into a Banshee, burst his ear drums with her high pitched screams, slashed him with her razor-sharp nails, he still would confess he loved her, despite promising her sister and himself he never would because she had given up on him.

If those chocolate brown eyes asked him to commit murder. If Phoebe asked him to kill...

He would.

He would do anything for Phoebe.

And she would do everything for him. She would save him.

He knew it. He could feel it.

He didn't know how. His fingers were closed into fists to prevent any unintentional usage of Source's mind-reading powers. It had never been his powers as Belthazor. But somehow...someway, he had always been able to...sense Phoebe.

Right now he could sense her overwhelming desire to change her future...to find the truth and save herself from her fate.

The only odd thing was…Phoebe's desire to save the future was coming from the attic...

Phoebe was up in the attic.

A fireball came alive in his palm, but it extinguished before the flames could even crackle or hit it's intended target.

Cole dropped on his knees and gaped down at the hilt of the sword, jutting out through his stomach.

He had felt the familiar sensation of a blade pierce through him, but surprisingly, the agony part never arrived.

He didn't have time to let out a relieved sigh and ponder. His chin was grasped and tucked upwards to connect with the gaze of the person responsible for his current predicament.

"You know a little make-up can do wonders for your grey, pallid skin." Phoebe's chocolate brown eyes skimmed his face. "It did for Billy Appleby. Made it seem like nothing was wrong so that nothing seems wrong."

Cole blinked at her, unable to look away from the uncanny physical and non-physical resemblance no shape-shifter or glamour could ever achieve in centuries.

His five senses said it was Phoebe. Sixth didn't agree. But it also didn't quite disagree.

It wasn't surprising.

Impersonation, mind manipulation, suggestions—one of the many of Source's powers along with the ability to conjure illusions powerful enough to lose touch with reality. Fully capable of causing physical harm.

And even death.

He knew that. Every unfortunate demon out there probably knew and feared that.

Cole didn't fear realistic, deadly illusions created for the obvious purpose of tempting and torturing him. The best way to get to him had always been Phoebe. And sooner or later he had expected Source to pull a stunt like this to haunt him.

He had never feared this happening...

"You're awfully thinking hard about me."

Cole pulled himself out of the temporary reverie and gripped the arm of his attacker and savior until his knuckles turned white.

...He only feared unknowingly triggering one of the many powers he had inherited and bringing it to life.

With Little Phoebe in the next room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Believe it or not. I don't consider this as a very evil cliffhanger. Yeah I know I'm crazy :-p
> 
> You know I always found it weird that the episode called 'Three Faces of Phoebe," we never saw the third face of Phoebe. I was really expecting that. Well atleast writing a conversation between Evil Phoebe and Cole would be very interesting :-)
> 
> I know we never saw Source bring to life his illusions, but I refuse to believe that he didn't possess the power to do that. I mean kids at Magic School were always conjuring things like Headless Horsemen and what not easily. So I totally believe the Source of all Evil possessed power of projection. Though not at Wyatt's level of course. I mean if Source could do that, then he wouldn't have needed the Hollow and would've just brought to life and unleashed all manners of hell on Earth already and takeover. Wyatt obviously did all that in the future we saw in the episode Chris-Crossed.
> 
> I think the main drawback of bringing things to life is that the creators may not have much control over their creations. Like the Headless Horseman got lose and killed a thief. And a Magic School student was killed by one of the fictional characters he wrote. Even baby Wyatt had to destroy the dragon he conjured before it could incinerate his Mom...
> 
> Anyways, enough babble about technicalities of powers. I hope Charmed fans are still alive, reading, kudoing, reviewing :-) How else is an author supposed to know if readers are interested in the next evil chapter with the most evil cliffhanger if they don't review? ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I know. It's been like a year since the last update :-( The excuse shall always be real-life. Thanks for the kudos and comments!

"You know I envy you, Cole. I really do. You...you could shape-shift into anyone, anything. You could easily possess anyone. Go anywhere..." She paused in her admiration to shake her head. "You have all these amazing powers coursing through your veins right now and all you want to do is just throw them away?" she voiced incredulously. "Honestly, I would kill for some cool active powers. I mean premonitions? Levitation?" she scoffed. "Does levitation sound like a natural progression of premonition? Now something like Astral Projection, that has many possibilities..." She sighed mournfully. "Lucky for me, all the good cool active powers are meant for Prue and Piper. Especially Prue," she griped. "So are you planning on ignoring me all day or what, Cole?"

Yes.

But he didn't say it outloud.

"You know if Grams and Prue were alive right now, they would've had your head for ignoring me. And as far as baby sitters go...you've got a lot to learn."

His hand tightened on the slender arm he had been grasping since her arrival.

But he refused to respond.

"Hmm..." Phoebe pouted, obviously disappointed at the prolonged silent treatment. "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me."

If he hadn't been aware of the fact how much the Source loved to play mind games, he would've been thrilled to see Phoebe Halliwell. But now?

Now he had to concentrate.

If he and the Source were truly one now as he claimed in a nightmare, and confirmed by the Seer, then he should have some degree of control over his creations, shouldn't he?

"Try blinking your eyes or waving your hand. Maybe that'll work."

Cole exhaled sharply.

But then again, according to Gith who possessed an inferiority complex and powers of creation of worlds from people's desires:

"I create worlds, I don't control them. They work in their own way, in their own time."

If he couldn't control something, then there was only one way to gain control of the situation.

Before he could conjure anything lethal, Phoebe reached out and caught his wrist with her free hand.

"Last time you tried incinerating me, it didn't work out so well for you, did it?" she reminded, eyeing the sword still residing through him. It might very well have been Excalibur since he couldn't pull it out. "And exactly how sure are you that I'm outside or not outside your head right now? A hundred and one percent?" Her thumb gently brushed across the underside of his wrist. "We wouldn't want you to accidentally cause damage to priceless antiques. Or anyone else in the vicinity who would happen to merrily stroll by..."

Cole eyed her with disdain before finally breaking his vow of silence. "I've got nothing to say to you."

Phoebe—no not Phoebe, a very good imitation of her—raised an eyebrow. "Well somebody is cranky and childish."

They tended to be when they had a conversation with a sword lodged in their gut and immobilized to their knees.

"The thing is...I've got plenty to say to you, Cole. A lot of things."

"Not interested," Cole spat with as much venom as he could muster for one of Source's creations.

"Really?" Phoebe ran her tongue over her lips. Her fingers slowly trailed up his wrist. "You seemed plenty interested when you were sliding your tongue down my throat."

Cole grasped her other hand, stilling her tiptoeing fingers. He then latched on to her arm. "If this is supposed to make me give myself more willingly to the Source—" He gritted his teeth. "I've seen Kieran demons do better."

"Have you now?" Eyes gleaming with mischief, Phoebe leaned forward until their foreheads were resting together, their faces barely apart. "Pray tell which aspect of me can shape-shifting strippers do better? Hmm?" Her voice practically caressed his face...his lips. "This?" Her trapped arms didn't stop her wandering fingers. "Or maybe it's this...?" Or stop her exploring toes which were in a threateningly close proximity of his...

His grip almost slipped on her arms. Almost.

Phoebe chuckled, halting her ministrations."Seduction is more subtle than possession. And harder to fight," she remarked, standing upright. "Can't blame a girl for trying, now."

"You're no girl," Cole intoned, dropping his gaze, forcing himself to look anywhere but at her. "And you're certainly not Phoebe."

"Oh really?" she inquired, with amusement. "Then enlighten us all. What am I?"

The umpteenth attempt to break him. To make him stop fighting. To accept the powers which he had unknowingly inherited after the half-face Source's vanquish, along with something else...something evil...

Evil which was strong enough to taunt him, force him to flame back and forth from the Underworld, do the Seer's bidding, give him head-splitting migraines; keep his lips sealed tightly, invade his dreams, and now haunt his waking moments as well.

"Well Cole?"

Cole wet his lips, before speaking, "You're as real as the world of desires Gith creates." He raised his head and stared defiantly at Phoebe's doppelganger before delivering the verbal blow. "But you're just as empty as those desires too."

"Ouch." Phoebe winced, though her eyes had narrowed. "That hurts Cole. That really hurts my feelings."

Cole scoffed.

He didn't give a damn about its feelings.

He had only given in for a few seconds. Let his guard down. Made himself vulnerable by thinking about the past. About mistakes and then gotten overwhelmed by the feeling of desperation and despair.

And the Source used it, twisted it.

And this was what Phoebe standing here right now was. A twisted version of the woman he loved.

"But what about pain?" The weapon suddenly twisted deeper into his gut. "does that feel...real?"

If a doctor asked him on a scale of one to ten. Fifty.

Miraculously, he managed to keep the bloodcurdling scream of agony inside himself. Along with hold on one of her arms. "More real than y-you…" He gasped out, panting heavily from the pain. "N-Never be good as the…real Phoebe..."

"The real Phoebe?"

The pain suddenly subsided. The sword remained however.

"Now would that be the one who's completely oblivious to your suffering or the one who knows everything but wouldn't lift a finger to ease your suffering?"

Cole hauled in a breath. And another as he tried to gain a sense of normalcy. Well normal considering a sword in his gut and the Source slowly taking over him and using Phoebe.

He was tempted to taunt the Source to continue torturing him. The thought of his suffering attracting and traumatizing Little Phoebe squashed the temptation.

Keeping an iron-clad grip on her arm, he continued his efforts to reverse the magic which brought her to life. Or hopefully, discover a way to snuff that life.

"I'm not a fireball you can just snuff out," Phoebe stated flatly. "And I'm not going anywhere. Not yet anyway. But since you're oh so desperate to get rid of me..." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned forward to whisper. "Maybe you should try the ten year old in the living room. Or the twenty-five year old in the attic."

The suggestion sent a chill down his spine, but Cole maintained a calm exterior. "I would kill myself first," he retorted, fierce protectiveness swelling within him

Phoebe smiled disarmingly. "You wanted to know how to get rid of me. And that is how you can," she said simply and added. "Well that and embracing your newly acquired powers. I mean, how can you expect to control something you can't accept?"

Even if a part of him already came to that conclusion, he would never accept the Source's powers. He would find another way.

"If it makes you feel any better, I won't go and hurt myself," she assured genuinely but Cole took those words with a grain of salt. "That's what you're terrified of, isn't?" she guessed. "That's why you're trying to keep the focus on you so I wouldn't go on some murderous rampage and premonition everyone to death." She rolled her eyes, looking offended. "Destroying the Power of Three and the Charmed Ones by killing Little Me might be tempting for every Tom, Harry and demon and other creepy crawly evil things out there, but not me. So you can stop clinging onto me so tightly."

"Why not?" Cole asked, mixture of curiosity and defiance. Creations had the same goals as their masters. "Isn't it better to just kill the Charmed Ones now?" While they were vulnerable thanks to Little Phoebe's presence.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly will I exist, if she doesn't?" she pointed out the obvious. "How will we exist?" She reached out to touch his cheek, but Cole caught the loving and caring hand before she could.

"What about Phoebe in the attic? Does that generosity extend to Present Phoebe also?" he asked sarcastically. Being a former demon and lawyer, he was fully aware of loopholes and fine prints.

"Well..." Phoebe began contemplatively. "My sisters and I have to be alive to vanquish Kurzon, don't we?"

"And the future?" Cole questioned, unwavering on his hold on her. Or her attempts to deflect the subject.

Phoebe snorted indignantly. "You mean the old lady who slapped you across the face." Squinting her eyes, she studied his face. "And left quite a hand print too."

Cole exhaled impatiently. "If she dies, all the secrets about the future die with her. And if she's alive, she'll have no choice but to tell everything. Otherwise the spell won't return her to the future," he theorized. "So does this generosity extend to Future Phoebe as well?"

Phoebe shrugged, disinterested. "Future changes with every choice we make," she replied evasively. "Did you know she doesn't remember casting the spell?"

"Doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything. It makes no difference. You didn't answer my question. "

"Doesn't it?" she questioned curiously instead, inches away from his face. "Do you know why she cast that spell?"

To hear her heart's desire.

"Of course you do. Even without telepathy, you're smart, you would've figured it out. You know by now why your fiancée cast that spell."

Whether to marry him or not.

"It. Doesn't. Matter," Cole enunciated each word, between gritted teeth.

"Mmm...I think it does," Phoebe persisted. "Because there's no guarantee the bitter, mean and hateful old lady sitting right now in our bedroom is destined to be the future me," she said. "She's…just as real as the possibility of Phoebe burning at the—"

Cole's hand was around her throat before another word could leave her lips. "Is that her future? Burning at stake?" He raged, knowing at the back of his mind anger could be a chance for Source to gain control. But he didn't care. "Because there's no way in hell, I'm ever going to let that happen!" He snarled the last part in a demonic roar. His hold had tightened enough to shatter bones.

Phoebe, however showed no signs of being deprived of oxygen. Or that she needed it in the first place.

"Anger is one of the seven deadly sins," she told him calmly. "With your powers you really shouldn't think so hard. It could be dangerous," she warned. "Who knows what else you could just... bring to life..." She smiled easily. "If my sisters were to walk in, I don't think they'll appreciate my husband-to-be strangling me before the wedding."

"Your sisters?" Cole chuckled humorlessly, before realizing something. "You know what? Keep up the charade. Because if my memory serves right, creating and maintaining illusions or something real takes a lot of magic. And the last time the Source did it...to Piper, I almost beat him. If it weren't for his loyal Oracle, he would've been dead right now. So...go ahead." He released her throat along with the everlasting grip on her arm. "Create a whole alternate reality while you're at it. Drive me insane like Piper...And then grow weaker. And I'll get stronger. And soon, I'll be strong enough to kill us both. " He didn't care if he referred to both Phoebe and the Source as one. To him they were. And they were going down.

An unfazed Phoebe watched his outburst before calmly replying. "First of all, to be fair, my sister was...is a Charmed One and you…." She gave him a once over, appraising him, while rubbing her throat. "You're kind of….hmm….human who couldn't even hold a steady job so…"

Cole ignored the words meant to make him feel small.

"But that's okay," she sincerely assured. "You had been Belthazor for a century. It's hard getting used to life without powers. There's no shame in that. And as for alternate reality…you can get whatever alternate reality you desire. Soon."

Cole frowned puzzled, but shook his head. "I don't know what game it is you're playing, but I'm not interested."

"What's the matter?" she challenged. "Don't you believe in alternate futures and realities, Cole? Where you and me didn't end up like..." Her eyes traveled towards the ceiling, obviously referring to their bedroom where Old Phoebe resided. "That."

"No. I don't."

"Too bad," she sighed disappointed, pulling away from him. "Because it is possible."

Cole snorted in disbelief. "Possible where? In Gith's alternate realities made of desires? Oh..." It finally hit him. "Oh I see…." He finally realized. "That's what you're offering me? A reality in my mind? A normal life, trapped in my mind with you while the Source causes chaos using my body?" Cole shook his head vehemently "Maybe whispering in Piper's ear to give up her powers almost worked, but there is no way in Heaven or Hell I'm giving up my soul so you could—"

"Oh don't be so over dramatic Cole," she cut in. "I already own your soul. And you should really consider the offer," she stressed. "You're already slipping up. It'll happen again more frequently. Good and evil, fighting inside you, ripping you apart…" She trailed her fingers down the side of his face. "I want to save you that pain…"

Cole didn't push her hand away but instead clasped it in his. "If you really care about saving me from pain, go up to the attic to your self and your sisters. Tell them everything." He gave her an earnest, intense look. "Please."

"If I just waltzed in and showed myself, there's a ninety nine percent chance I would swear off men forever and go join the nuns."

"Or maybe you can't show up. ..because you're in my head." Cole muttered, staring intensely at her. "You're not real."

"Maybe...Maybe not." Phoebe smirked. "I wouldn't risk trying to prove either theory."

"But I think it's worth the risk to prove that theory. To yourself..." Cole still held her gaze. "You should go up to the attic. Now."

Phoebe stared into his eyes for a long moment before she broke her gaze and lowered it to their entwined hands. With a smile, she gave his hand a squeeze. "You know hypnotic powers to tempt someone to listen and obey you don't work on me. But nice try though," she complimented, drawing her hand back. "A solid A for effort."

Cole bit back a few colorful words.

"So…." She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "Have you given any thought to what kind of normal life you want with me? White picket fence? Two kids and a puppy?"

Cole chuckled dryly. "I'll take my chances going down fighting." He made his intention crystal clear. "Now if you're done mentally torturing me, leave me alone."

Phoebe tilted her head and sighed. "Oh Cole. I was never here to mentally torment you. Or to force you to give up your soul and stop fighting. Or push you to kill an innocent. Or go kill your fiancee or Future ex-fiancee. Or all those other dark and depressing thoughts swirling in there." She tapped his forehead. "None of that."

"Then why are you still here?" he asked coldly.

"To warn you," she revealed. "In case you decide to do something stupid."

Cole chuckled. "Define stupid."

"Oh you know…being suicidal…trying to—what was it you said before? Oh yes." She gave him an icy stare. "Kill yourself." She folded her arms. "Because you know if you want to kill the Source. The reborn, reincarnated Source. The best advice I can give you is to….well just give up. And I don't mean trying to kill yourself give up," she clarified. "Just nip that kill yourself idea right out of your head."

"No," Cole hissed without any hesitation.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry...I didn't catch that."

"I will never give up trying to kill myself," he repeated with every ounce of defiance he could gather. "So my answer is no. "

"No…." Phoebe drawled sarcastically, slowly unfolding her arms.

Cole braced himself for another round of sword twister in his gut. He was luckily left waiting.

"Okay...you see there. You could try that. No. Or never," Phoebe pronounced mockingly. "Hell you could even try cutting off your head. But maybe you should consider the consequences."

"What consequences?" Cole countered flippantly. "The one where the Source is dead?"

Phoebe tossed him a wary glace. "C'mon Cole, you're smarter than that. You should know better than anyone."

"Know what?"

"How did you get the Source's powers? And his...what...?" Phoebe made a face. "Essence? For the lack of a better term."

Through Seer's treachery.

"If you get him…it...out of you, by getting yourself killed, where do you think the Source would go? To the Demonic Wasteland?"

"I don't care as long as it's gone." Out of his body, mind, soul and life forever.

"Well, it was attracted to the void where your non-preachy, demon and evil half used to reside. The void which had been craving for some action to be complete again," she said. "That's why you got a loaded gun. Which was stupid and reckless—" Phoebe stopped her chiding and patted him. "I know next to us you feel like a potted plant. And sitting in the sidelines was driving you insane. But I don't think accidentally shooting yourself is the best way to deal with those feelings."

The only time he regretted throwing the weapon away was now. Perhaps he could've ended it sooner.

"Your reckless behavior aside, in a nutshell, it was attracted to evil," Phoebe explained, though her eyes spoke differently about getting any bright ideas about trying a gun on himself. "Now funny thing is, evil resides in every person, not just demons and warlocks. There are mortals, witches, whitelighter, half-whitelighters...Elders...Cupids—"

Cole snorted indignantly. "Cupids?"

Phoebe ignored him. "And some people are more susceptible to it. So I wonder..." Her gaze strayed toward something he couldn't see. "If you successfully killed yourself right now, where do you think the Source and his powers would go? Who besides you in this house is vulnerable to evil?"

Cole felt his blood drain.

He didn't need to turn around to know who Phoebe was staring at. He easily recognized the small footsteps approaching them.

"Phoebe! Stay back!" He shouted, the sheer panic in his voice shocking him.

The approaching footsteps halted. "Why?"

"There's…" He frantically searched for a lie to feed the ten year old. "T-There's glass here...broken glass so stay back!"

"So? I'm wearing shoes." The bold, defiant reply normally would've bought him both joy and frustration. Now he felt only dread.

"Y-You could still hurt yourself!" He cried again, suddenly glad about the furniture and so many plants from previous generation that they were practically hidden from Little Phoebe's vantage point. "I'll be right there! Just go back to the living room! Stay there!"

After what felt like eternity: "Alright, alright. You don't have to yell like a crazy person." He heard the pitter-patter of shoes moving away from him. From them.

He never felt the sigh of relief.

"So as I was saying, before we were so rudely interrupted…." Phoebe stopped admiring her fingernails before turning her attention to him. "As sweet as you dying to protect me is Cole, the only thing you'll end up doing is crowning the next Source." She waited a beat. "Or unleashing an evil ten year old on the world."

Cole clenched his trembling hands into fists. He wouldn't be surprised if his hair had turned white. "D-Don't…" He tried to compose his shaky voice. "Don't threaten—"

"I'm not threatening me silly," she told him. "I told you that before," she reminded. "I'm just stating a fact. A very common, obvious and dangerous fact. I was the only one born in this Manor. That makes me more connected to the whole spiritual and Wiccan Nexus thingy. And the Nexus can be swayed either way. And if evil has the house…or someone who owns the house, it'll spread. And you already know about the whole thing with Dantalian turning the Book evil by getting Prue married to a warlock which turned us evil—" Phoebe huffed, exasperated. "Do I really have to explain the technical details of why killing yourself is a very...very bad idea? Just ask yourself this, why should the world's most powerful evil witches hole themselves in the dark, depressing Underworld when there's a world right here full of possibilities? And a world up there …." Phoebe's gaze wandered over to the ceiling, but it was obvious it was referring to a place higher than their bedroom. Or the attic. "Full of wonderful unlimited possibilities."

Fighting the chill that seemed to settle within him, Cole finally spoke. "I think you made your point."

"Good," she smiled brightly. "That's really good. I'm glad you see things my way. Besides..." She drew closer, circling her arms around his neck. "I would be so so sad if you died. Men in this family...they have a nasty track record of either leaving or having these mysterious accidents. Luckily Leo's already dead, huh?" she joked.

Cole didn't feel amused. He didn't feel anything.

"And you know the name of my true love begins with a C. And since my ex-boyfriend Clay is probably in jail or dead. Maybe both even...who exactly is going to be my true love with a C after your tragic suicide?" She snorted. "Cupid?"

Cole stared at her numbly. "Are we done now?"

Smiling, Phoebe pressed a kiss against the top of his head, lingering for a moment before she pulled away. Cupping his cheek and running her thumb over his lips, she yanked out the sword.

Cole lurched forward, but braced his hands against the floor to keep himself from falling.

For a few moments, all he heard were the sounds of his ragged breathing.

"Why are you on the floor?"

He slowly tilted his head up to meet the anxious gaze of Little Phoebe looking down at him.

Just him. No one else.

"Cole? "

It took a while for his dry throat to work. "I was just...uh...just putting away...Paige's things….and I must've lost track of time," he told the first lie his chaotic mind offered.

Phoebe scrunched her nose. "Who's Paige?"

Or rather the evil within him had offered. The same one which warned him about the consequences of trying to kill himself—

He breathed sharply. "Just...Never mind." Forcing the brewing headache to the back of his mind, Cole unsteadily pulled himself to his feet.

His unsteady movements didn't go unnoticed. "Are you okay?"

Cole gave Phoebe a reassuring smile as he leaned his weight against the sofa. "Oh yes. I'm fine, Phoebe."

Phoebe bit down on her lower lip harshly, looking unconvinced.

"I'm...I'm okay. Really." He straightened himself up for her benefit. "Just a...a little migraine I've had since...it's nothing to worry about."

The last part was a lie. However, he restrained himself from giving into fear. Or despair. Giving the Source exactly what he wanted.

The Source was trying to prove how much control he had. He wanted to stomp even a glimmer of hope within him. To make him believe there was no point in fighting. Or trying to kill himself.

Even if it was true, that killing himself in a last ditch effort to destroy the Source would condemn Phoebe to his hopeless fate, it also proved another thing. The Source was desperate.

Cole smiled to himself, a realization suddenly occurring to him.

Desperate and afraid.

Afraid Future Phoebe would reveal the knowledge to vanquish him permanently. No being reborn. No reincarnation. Just dead.

"Cole?"

"Yes Phoebe?" He answered distractedly, reinvigorated and fueled by new hope. A certainty. Of Phoebe saving him. Of them finally being together without complications.

"Can I ask you something?"

Cole tenderly smiled down at Little Phoebe. "You can ask me anything." After his encounter with an evil version of her, he doubted anything she could ever say could shock him now. "What is it?"

She chewed her lip and shifted nervously from one foot to the other, suddenly looking as if she wanted to change her mind.

Cole decided to make things easier for her. "Look Phoebe, something...or someone is obviously bothering you. I don't need to read minds to see that," he told her, clenching his hands into fists before folding his arms. "What I do know is the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner you'll feel a lot better. Trust me."

Phoebe hesitated but then finally spoke,"Grams...she's gone..." She faltered for a second before seemingly forcing the next words out. "She's...she's dead, right?"

"That's...right..." Cole confirmed slowly, frowning at the odd question. "But this is the future. Not the past. Which is your present," he amended. "Your grandmother will be just fine when you go back home," he assured. "Is that what you wanted to ask me?"

Phoebe lowered her gaze before slowly shaking her head.

His frown and worry deepened. "Then what is it?"

After a bit of more toddling and delaying, she finally asked what Cole knew had been bothering her all this time.

"Is Coop also dead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wait...what? What?! Did Little Phoebe just say—Nah. Nope, she didn't. Cause you know that would be crazy! But then again, didn't I tell everyone this was one insane fic? And that I'm also a very evil author? :-p
> 
> And speaking of evil, I always got the impression the reason Cole never tried something crazy like killing himself was because of the fear of the Source and his powers transferring to Phoebe after his death or something. Which I think does sort of happen after Cole's vanquish when the baby suddenly starts controlling Phoebe and trying to kill Paige. Hmm.
> 
> Anyways, hope you lovely Charmed fans are still here, reading and perhaps even reviewing ;-) Reviews make the world a better place :-)


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